


We'll Meet Again

by orphan_account



Series: rina week 2020 [3]
Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: :), Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Major Character Injury, Me murdering characters in this story?, Minor Character Death, Multiple Deaths, This one is intense, Violence, literally takes place in a diff universe, lots of death, mmm sorry, more likely than you think, multiple sad parts, rina has some happy parts, some - Freeform, think; the darkest minds, yep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:35:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24185254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “you want a revolution?pick your leader wisely.for a revolution can quickly turn into a massacre.”
Relationships: Ricky Bowen/Gina Porter
Series: rina week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742041
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	We'll Meet Again

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a doozy.
> 
> This one shot for day four of rina week, even though it says part 3. It's quite out there, enemies to lovers in a different sense than you would think. It's pretty lengthy, my longest one shot actually and I'm actually pretty proud of it. Every character from the actual show gets a mention at least once, but you'll find certain characters have a bigger role in the story. This is still a rina one shot though, just with a lot more side story. I'm not gonna lie, this story isn't for the faint hearted and describes a lot of things dealing with gruesome deaths (there's...multiple). So two main warnings I want to give: there are many gruesome deaths I describe in detail (it's the first thing in this story) and multiple (major) character deaths.  
> also some things that are canon in this story; 
> 
> Ashlyn and Red are related (brother and sister, sorry redlyn shippers)  
> Ej and Ashlyn aren't related  
> Ej and Gina aren't related but they consider themselves siblings  
> Ricky and Gina are both 18  
> This takes place in a far off universe in a near future (if that makes sense)
> 
> Also the title is from the song(s) that inspired this story and even though this wasn't a song one shot I think the songs give this piece a little more meaning. The songs in question are called “We’ll Meet Again” by Vera Lynn and “We’ll Meet Again” by Ramin Djawadi. They both have very different tones but they both contribute a lot to this story. If you want, you can listen to them before you read so you’d get a feel of the story. Without further ado, if you decide to read this rollercoaster of a one shot, thank you!

**It’s deafening.**

The sharp shrill of metal against metal followed by an ear-piercing sound of bullet against bone. It’s as if the whole world was put on pause, only for a second, before whoever was controlling it pressed play. The screaming around him is high pitched, scared, shattering and he can see the blood on the kids who were closer to the stage. He’s standing in the middle of it all, hearing shouts from people all around him. He can see people being dragged with such force he could feel it. Then he sees **her,** clad in a long black hood that fell to reveal the blood splattered across her face, across her lips that settle into a grim line when she makes eye contact with him. 

**And it’s fear that consumes him.**

Ricky’s pushed to the ground suddenly by something and his head hits the floor hard. He’s bleeding, hot liquid dripping down his temple and into his eye and for a moment half his vision is colored red. It stings and he has to blink a couple times to see better. People, his people, were being dragged out of the compound with such force he could feel it through the solid concrete. His mind is scrambled, like his own thoughts are pouring out if his head wound and it’s going blank quickly. **Mr. Thomas was dead. He was gunned down by a monster. A monster who was still breathing.**

He looks up and she’s still on the stage, gun aimed to the floor, looming over his dead leader’s body. It’s the second bullet she lodges into Mr. Thomas’ head that a primal rage overcomes the fear. His mind is void of all rational thought as he scuffles off the ground and races to the dead guard on the floor a few feet away. He pries the knife out of his clammy knife before he spots her again, noting that she’s not watching him and he’s off. 

**Never bring a knife to a gunfight.**

But he’s still running, anger fueling him to move faster, to drive the knife deep into her heart. 

But before he could even get that far something snags him in the shoulder, cutting through the fabric and biting into his flesh and he’s down on the ground again. Every nerve in his body is on fire and he’s seizing at the pain that courses through his veins. He’s quivering, the knife clattering to the ground as his fist ball up, drawing blood that smears the ground below him. He’s inhaling the dirt that was brought up by the ambush and he can’t breath. This is how it ends. This is how it all ends. The last thing he sees before his eyes close is a long black hood and a blood covered face. 

* * *

He wakes up in unbearable pain. It’s like a rusty chain is dragging him by the foot through the coals of hell, never stopping, only getting faster. 

**And it’s how he knows he’s alive.**

When he flutters his eyes open he’s met with dim lighting and a horrible smell. Window panes lined the room around him, and instead of seeing the sky, all he saw was concrete. People were walking on the outside of...wherever the hell he was, casually looking in and looking away like he wasn’t a prisoner. Despite there being no shackles to keep him on the bed he felt like a prisoner. He didn’t know where he was, what day it was, what was going on. But it comes rushing back to him and he can feel the bile rise in his throat. 

“You get used to it.” 

It startles him, so much that he hits his elbow on the bed frame when he turns to find the voice. She’s sitting there on a metal chair, peeling on an orange with a bright red pocket knife. The second thing he sees is a gun leveled above her shoulder, held by a concentrated boy he’s never seen before. “The smell I mean.” She peels the orange in half, placing the knife in her lap, before throwing the other half to him. He catches it, instinctively, but throws it on the ground immediately. He watches her stare at the fruit unamused before she takes a bite of her half. 

She sighs, “What’s your name man?” He looks back and forth between her and the boy with a gun, refusing to answer. It’s nothing but silence for the next minute or so before she huffs and turns to the boy next to her. “You can go Ej.” The boy; Ej, makes a face and doesn’t budge, keeping the weapon aimed directly at him. Whatever she was planning, she wasn’t being smart about it, because without ‘Ej’ there to protect her, his hands would find her neck and break it in a second. “He won’t kill me.” 

**She’s wrong.**

“He couldn’t kill anyone even if he tried. He’s filled with good, can’t you see it?” That **‘good’** left the moment she fired the second bullet into a dead man’s skull. 

“He’s unlike us, unwilling to take a life even if his depended on it.” She’s...wrong. He could take a life if he needed to. **Anyone’s capable of anything under circumstance.** And this seemed to be one of those circumstances. “I’ll be okay, go” Ej stands straighter, his lip snarling as he points the gun further in his direction. Without another word he turns on his heel and rips the door open, before slamming it behind him. “He’s always been one for theatrics.” She has the audacity to joke around with him. 

“What makes you think I won’t kill you.” His voice is hoarse, hurts when he finally decides to speak. She simply shrugs, “You haven’t yet.” 

He clenches his jaw and bows his head in shame. He tells himself to run over to her, jab her own knife into her heart, but he doesn’t move. He has the chance to do so, has the chance to confront the person who ended his life, but he doesn’t **move.** So many different ways to kill her coursing through his mind but he can’t bring himself to act on a single one. 

He wasn’t a murderer. **He wasn’t like her.**

“May I ask-” she sets the orange behind her on the metal table and turns back to him, crossing one leg over the other, “Who are you?” It feels like an interrogation but there’s not a hint of malice behind her words. He doesn’t buy it. She’s playing a game with him and he refuses to take part in it. He stares at the ground in disgust, in anger, in overwhelming sadness. Mr. Thomas was still dead and he was stuck with the person who did it in an unfamiliar room, unsure of what the future held for him. Or even if there was a future for him. “Do you want to know who I am?” 

“You’re a murderer.” He pulls his legs off the bed, feeling the solid ground beneath his feet. His rage is becoming primal again, the more questions she asks him the stronger it gets. 

“Mr. Thomas was going to kill you. All of you.” It’s confusion and disbelief he settles on when he finally looks at her. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“He brought you to the compound to kill you. Annihilate you, free himself of you.” 

**Liar.** She’s lying, spewing falsehoods right at his face and he suddenly can’t breathe. “What do you want from us.” It’s hard to get the words through his tightening throat. Tears are pricking the corner of his eyes as the lump in his throat grows. He doesn’t believe her, can’t, but his heart is racing and his thoughts don’t make sense.

“To save you. Which we did.” She sits up like she’s proud. Proud of the lives she took, the lives she destroyed. **She’s lying, she’s lying, she’s-**

“You didn’t save us. Don’t act like you liberated us.” His vision is quickly becoming blurred, breathing becoming shallow. **Mr. Thomas was a good man. A savior to many. To him.** She, whoever she was, took all of that away and was proud of it. “It was never my intention to harm your people. I’ve dealt with the people who hurt the innocent-” 

“Dealt with?” It sounded as if what she was saying had been rehearsed, like the people she was talking about were just lines she had to remember and not actual human beings. **Not his people.** “Like you dealt with Mr. Thomas.” He finds the strength to stand up, his knees buckling underneath him slightly. He’s angry, without a doubt, the primal rage consuming him from the inside out 10x over. “Mr. Thomas,” she speaks his name like a disease, never breaking eye contact with him, “was not a **good** man.” 

Something inside him snaps and he’s rushing to her, no gun in the room preventing him from doing so. His hands find her shoulders, nails digging into skin as he throws her to the floor. She lands with a thud, her arms flying back and slapping the concrete. He hears the door behind him slam open, shouting filling the air and the numerous clicks of guns aimed at him. “You won’t kill me.” She’s still on the floor, unmoving, “You can hurt me, but you won’t kill me.” She spits at him, venom and precision dripping with her every word. “You can’t.” 

HE surges forward, ready to wrap his hands around her throat but he’s pulled back. There’s people forcing his arms back painfully, but he keeps resisting.“Sedate him, don’t hurt him.” He watches her stand up, dust the dirt off her pants as more people enter the room. He suddenly feels something prick him in the neck, a white hot sensation spreading throughout his skin, and he’s slowly losing all feeling in his limbs. “N-NO, NO-” His words become slurred and his vision is getting drowsy by the second. 

It hurts way less the second time he passes out. He’s being lowered into a controlled unconsciousness and he’s getting tired of having her face be the last thing he sees. 

“You’ll see soon enough that I saved you. **That I’m going to save all of us.”** His eyes shut and he falls into a dreamless sleep. 

  
  


* * *

He can hear a beeping, a consistent annoying beeping that increases when he opens his eyes. It’s bright, like the sun has been placed directly above him to blind him and there’s a thick layer of heat over the lower half of his body. His body aches, a raw feeling when he turns his head to the side in discomfort. He’s in a different room than before, this one brighter, more compact. He sees a door at the far left corner, a silver doorknob being his only way to freedom.

There’s no one in the room with him this time and he starts thinking of an escape plan. He still has no idea where he was, who had him prisoner, where his people were, but he was getting out. His chances were far better than being trapped in this place with **her.** He still didn’t know her name, who she really was, why she killed Mr. Thomas. He’s in a nightmare and he desperately wants to wake up. He's about to get off the bed when the door suddenly opens, a boy no younger than 16 walking in with a clipboard and a tight lipped smile, “Hello Ricky, glad to see you’re awake.” His body stiffens, his heart race accelerating as the boy walks closer. 

“H-How do you know m-my name?” He can see a silver name tag on his chest, squints his eyes to read the name. Dr. Rodriguez. **Doctor.** He thinks it a sick joke, the kid looks younger than him and the white coat he wore wasn’t convincing him one bit. “Your friends helped identify you earlier.” He gives him a polite smile before walking over the monster beside the bed. “You must be scared, there’s no reason to be.” 

“My f-friends?” He couldn’t stop stumbling through his words, his body going numb from all the confusion. Dr. Rodriguez pulled a rolly chair and sat a few feet away from him. “Yes, your friends. They’re all here, safe and sound, just like you.” He’s being lied to, again, this time by someone who claims to be a doctor. “I want to see them. I want to see that you guys didn’t hurt them.” He’s so desperate to understand anything. “And you will. Your head wound is healing, that’s wonderful.” Ricky reaches up to touch his temple, feeling the stitches embedded in his skin. “I just need to check your vitals and then you can be free.” 

**Free.**

It’s that word that clouds his better judgement. He sits back in the bed as instructed, still doesn’t understand in what context he would be free, but soon the iv in his arm would be pulled out and he’d finally get some answers. 

* * *

He learns that they’re in an underground facility. **And that he’s not free at all.** Dr. Rodriguez hadn’t lied completely though, his people were safe, wandering the corridors as if it was their home to begin with. Because they’re in an underground facility, time works a little differently. There’s no sun, no moon, just yellow fluorescents and a single clock in the common room. He stops paying attention to the time since it’s a lengthy walk from where his room is, and he wasn’t willing to take it every time he needed to know the hour. His room had been everything he expected; tight-fitting, dark, and damp. There had been no air conditioning in the rooms, only in the common room, and he still wasn’t willing to take that walk. He assumes that’s why the smell everywhere was horrible. 

She was right about one thing. He did get used to the smell. Unfortunately. 

But everything else, **she was wrong.**

Until he’s called into the room where it all began. The room with window panes that showed only more walls of concrete. The room in which he had tried to kill her but failed. He’s pulled out of his own room by Ej, the smug bastard who manhandles him down the hallway in front of people minding their own. When they get to the room it’s the same as how he remembered, only this time there’s more than one person pointing a gun at him. 

“Hello Ricky.” 

He keeps her eyes on her even when he’s forced down roughly into a chair. She’s sitting on the opposite end of the desk, files scattered on the table in front of them both. He eyes them, most of them had been encrypted, black lines covering a great sum of information. To the left of the desk he can see a black and white picture of a man in a fedora speaking on a flip phone. The picture looked like it was taken ages ago but he recognizes the scar on his left eyebrow and his heart goes still. It’s Mr. Thomas. “We have much to discuss, you and I.” 

He looks back at the girl in front of him, at the guns that have been lowered since he walked in the room. “I have nothing to say to you. I don’t even know who you are.” He just wants to go back into his room and stay the farthest he can away from her. “Maybe not. My name is Genevieve, but I’m not fond of it. So you can call me Gina, everyone does.” She looks past him, at Ej who stayed at the door and suddenly the people behind her are leaving the room, leaving them alone again. “Do you think that’s smart?” He watches her take a file from the desk and open it, reading the contents within. “Last time you and I were alone I tried to kill you.” 

**“I trust you.”**

He looks at her, through her, tries to pick her apart but he can’t. Gina knew his name, but that was it. She didn't **know** him. He didn’t **know** her. “Ricky, do you think I’m the villain here?” He hesitates to answer, he knows the answer is yes, but his mouth just opens and closes like a fish out of water. “I’m not.” She sets the file down in front of him and he looks down. He glances at it, more photos of Mr. Thomas taken from somewhere hidden, more encrypted lines that don’t mean a single thing to him. 

“Almost a decade ago, life for people like you and me changed.” She stands up and starts walking around the room, hands in her pockets as Ricky takes the initiative to look through more of the papers on the desk. “The world was running out of resources and they wanted to get rid of the cause,” he opens another file and his heart starts beating fast, **“us.”**

The day before his tenth birthday, **life changed drastically for Ricky Bowen.** The first attack fell on the east coast, obliterating half of the country in more ways than one. World leaders had gone mad. It turned into a frenzy and soon, ravenous political leaders turned the world into a bloodbath. America fell first, followed soon after by various other countries. But like anything, there were two sides. The ones who wanted to get rid of the problem, kids and the ones who wanted to save them. 

The ones who wanted to save them built a camp where parents could send their children away in hopes of being reunited after the wars calmed down. A place where kids would live in unity with each other while the world continued down a dangerous path. But it was a cover-up. **It was a lie.** It wasn’t a place for refuge at all. Kids were being sent to their deaths, without anyone knowing. The people who created the refuge were wolves in sheep’s clothing and wanted the same thing the other side wanted; **population control.**

**Murder.**

**Genocide.**

The second attack on the country had dismantled the camp, leading kids who survived to escape and run around their fallen country, searching for a life free of violence. **A life of peace.** That’s how Ricky found Mr. Thomas. A sweet old man who was on the true side of it all. He created a safe haven, deep within the woods of Virginia, safe from all the people that wanted them dead. Over the years, the safe haven grew in numbers, hundreds of kids had joined. **It was a safe haven.**

“And that man, Mr Thomas…. **he was leading you to death’s door.** He was gonna rat you all out for money.” He’s about to retort when he suddenly hears static then a familiar voice. 

**_“Wait until I’m out of the compound, then you can torch them. I don’t want to see it. Make sure my money is transferred. I’ve worked too damn hard for this.”_ **

It’s haunting, nauseating to hear the familiar voice through the static. The papers in his hands fall down onto his lap before flying to the ground. He’s frozen again, his mouth going slack as she replays the audio again. “That was a message he left for the guards that were supposedly there to protect you.” He drops his elbows into his thighs, digs his fingers into his eyes. Gina walks back to the metal table and sets the phone down, the play button bright and mocking on the screen. “He played the long game with you, collecting as many kids as he could. **I’m sorry.”**

**It wasn’t a safe haven at all.**

Gina could feel the betrayal radiate off him. The last years of his life, crashing down, in the form of an audio message that confirmed his worst fear. “I am not the villain Ricky. It was him all along.” 

He wipes the papers off her desk with a yell. The phone falls with everything too, a thud when it hits the ground and he feels everything in him turn cold and hot simultaneously. He doesn’t remember his life before any of this. **And the only life he’s ever known had been a complete lie.** He watched what he thought was a father figure get shot right in front of his eyes, only to learn that he was going to kill him. For money. He wasn’t a good man. 

**Mr. Thomas wasn’t a good man at all.**

“Ricky?” He was hyperventilating. Shaking, crying, everything that pointed to him having a panic attack. His world had obliterated and he had landed in a completely different one with people he had never seen before. She rounds the desk and crouches down to his level, trying to get him to look her in the eyes but he kept squeezing them shut. She touches his face and swats it away harder than he means to. 

“D-don’t-” 

Gina backs up, almost trips over herself as Ricky kicks the chair back. He falls to the floor, taking shallow breaths as his fingers pull at the roots of his hair. “Don’t touch me, don’t t-t-touch, fuck, I-I can’t-” He crawls to the door, hand shaking as he reaches up and turns the door knob. He uses the adrenaline coursing through him to crash into the wall outside of the room. She calls after him but he’s already halfway down the hallway. 

He takes a sharp turn into the left corridor, his corridor, looking for his room through his blurry vision. When he gets there he slams the door shut behind him, falling against it, his head thudding against the steel. He doesn’t bother turning the light on and lets himself sink to the ground. He hiccups, brings his knees to his chest as he tries to focus on counting his fingers. It’s a calming technique he learned from Mr. Thomas. Something he learned to keep him grounded. 

**His breathing gets worse.**

* * *

He hadn’t spoken to Gina since the day he found out his life was a lie, always avoided her whenever he could, made sure their paths didn’t cross at any point in the day. 

His feelings were complex when it came to her. To an extant, she was the reason he was still alive. But she was also the reason why he found out the last six years of his life had been a set up for someone’s personal gain. It was complicated nonetheless. Over the course of his time there he learned about the jobs everyone had. 

**And everyone had a job.**

There was a medical wing, where people like Mr. Rodriguez, who preferred to be called Carlos, spent most of their time. Then there was the children’s wing that was run by someone named Kourtney, where the young ones stayed away from the fight. There was also weaponry in the south corridor which was run by 18 year old Seb Matthew Smith. Ricky had the privilege of working there and it had become his favorite thing. He learned how to build things, shoot things, train his eyes for threats. It became something he looked forward to everyday. But like every good thing in his life, it came to an end when he was moved to tactical training. 

**God, did he miss weaponry so much.**

“Again.” 

He huffed aggressively, his arm aching to where Ej had twisted it and slammed his body onto the floor. “Let's go. Up.” Ej nudged at his rubs before jumping away, punching the air to warm himself up again. They had been sparring for forever it felt like, Ej beating the shit out of him for most of it. He was sore, in every possible place he could be sore and he was positive his entire body was covered in bruises. 

**New bruises.**

“Give me-” he coughed, his chest constricting painfully, “a damn second.” He saw Ej’s foot fly towards him and though he wasn’t prepared in the past, he was ready this time. He grabs his foot and flips them both over, rolling onto the mat harshly. “And here I thought Ej was my best hand to hand fighter.” 

She’s leaning against the doorframe, her shoulder perched against the white lining, arms crossed tightly over her chest. It was the first time he had seen her in awhile, first time hearing her for more than a second. He’d seen her around, avoided her watchful eyes at meals more often than not, and he was still confused about his feelings towards her. 

She looked out of breath, the sheen of sweat across her forehead and chest made him wonder if she had been training in another room. “Ej, Nini wants you in room 4.” 

“What for?” 

“Edge weapon training.” 

Ricky’s really glad he hadn’t been forced to take part in knife training yet, because it sounds horrible. He’s heard of the girl they’re talking about before, Nini, and apparently she doesn’t hold back. Put a knife into play and someone’s definitely ending up in the medical ward. **And it wasn’t going to be Nini.** Ej groans and starts to unwrap the cloth around his knuckles, walking past Ricky and leaving him in the ring. “I hate training with her, she’s too violent.” 

“She’s good.” Ricky feels awkward standing in the ring so he begins to unwrap his own bandages, making his way to his bag on the other side of the room. “She’s lethal.” Gina pats him on the shoulder as he heads out the room. “She’s exactly what we need her to be.” He leaves and it’s suddenly just them in the training room and he’s starting to think it’s a pattern. He assumes she leaves a second after Ej does, wants her to leave, but instead she walks further in. 

“What are you doing?” He stops unwrapping his left hand and turns, his eyebrows raising in confusion. “Genevieve, my sparring partner left, unless you want me to clean the sweat off the floor, I’m pretty much done-” 

“I said you can call me **Gina,** everyone does. C’mon,” she says before jumping from side to side, warming herself like Ej had and he’s not sure where this is heading, “you and me.” Her hair’s pulled back into a tight ponytail but some curls had managed to fall out and frame her face, flying to the side every time she jumped. “W-what?” 

“Take your wrappings off. Bare knuckles, come on, never trained with you, I want to.” She stops jumping and presses her hands on her hips, waiting for him to step onto the mat again. He thinks she’s crazy. But he quickly takes the wrappings off anyway and jogs back into the ring, planting his feet at the edge and not going any further. “You want me,” he points at himself because although he was tired and sore beyond reason, fighting with her under the guise of training excited him just a tiny bit, “to fight you?” She comes closer, unafraid of the height he has on her. 

“You say that like you’re a threat. **You think you can beat me Bowen?”**

He doesn’t like being called by his last name. So he puts his fists up and throws one right at her face. But misses, and it’s not fair because it’s like she’s faster than lightning and she moves her head quickly before throwing a punch at his ribs. She jumps away with a laugh, her fists, though very small, packed the force of a grown man and has Ricky doubling over in pain. 

**He blames it on the bruises already there.**

He advances again but she blocks it and uses the opening to pop him in the thigh with her knee. He falls to the floor and lets out a groan at the pain that surges through his leg. “Didn’t know we were playing dirty but alright.” He flips onto his back before rolling out and taking her extended arm to flip her onto the ground. It was a move he learned from Ej a while back, a move that he definitely needed to work on because the outcome isn’t quite as graceful as he wanted it to be. 

She uses her momentum as an advantage, much to his disappointment and drags them both to the floor, her legs sneaking around his hips and keeping him in place. “Man, you kind of suck.” He pulls her arm to the side, across his body and throws her onto her stomach. He pushes away and takes in a deep breath, prepared for another attack. 

**“Shut up.”** Her punches are swift, hitting him where it stings and he’s not ready to call it quits although he really should. He sees an opening, to take her leg and push her to the ground again, but she headbutts him straight in the nose and he’s reeling back, hands flying around to catch himself on something. He falls into the spare mats along the wall and he’s practically blinded by the punch, swinging forward at nothing as the pain swells throughout his face. “Oh fuck, that was too much, are you okay?” 

She walks to him, hand hovering over his face and terror in her eyes. He keeps his own hand over his nose, to imply that he’s bleeding, when he’s really not, but that would ruin the surprise. He lowers himself so that his shoulder is lined with her torso and propels forward, slamming her back into the ring and onto the mat. She falls with a grunt, her hands coming quickly to push him off but in that moment, he’s faster than her and grabs her wrist before pinning them above her head. 

“I win, don’t even try to fight, I win.” He breathes out every word rather than says it. He’s sweaty and he reeks and Gina’s still trying to get him off. She’s stuck underneath him with her hands pinned above her head and no way out. **He wins.** He can see through the curls that fall in front of his eyes that she’s slowly accepting the defeat. Her head falls to the floor and she lets out a sigh that reaches his face. 

They’re both breathing hard, Ricky because he thinks his nose is broken and Gina because that was one of the most exhilarating training experiences she’s ever been a part of. He doesn’t let go of her wrists and her legs have managed to wrap themselves around his waist in the struggle. Their faces are both a little too close in proximity, too close considering everything that happened but they don’t move. 

He can see her swallow hard and he should move back, let go of her wrists and leave the room because they’re done fighting, **but he doesn’t.** It’s like he’s frozen in place, hovering above her like he was meant to. And he’s not dumb, he knows what could come out of this if he leans forward. She could slap him. It could be a trick. She could have his head on a stick if he read the entire thing wrong. But it’s not him who makes the first move. It’s her who cranes her neck upward and captures his lips in a searing kiss. It’s teeth against teeth, nothing is gentle about it and he’s never had his first kiss, **let alone this intense of one.**

And he really should’ve read the tell-tale signs of someone **tricking him** because suddenly she’s kneeing him in the gut, his hands letting go of her wrists and sliding across the mat. She bites his lip and her hands are around his neck in a quick motion, twisting them on the floor so that she was below him and his back was against her front. She has him in a chokehold, a very tight chokehold, and he has to tap out before his vision goes completely black. He slaps her arm numerous times and chokes when she relieves some pressure before she’s pushing him off to the side. “W-what the h-” he coughs into the mat as he wraps a hand around his own throat to ease the pain, **“What the hell was that?”**

He watches her stand up and walk to the door, her ponytail swaying from side to side as she turns around with a bright smile. “That was you thinking you won,” he lies on the ground, staring up at her in a dumbfounded manner, **“and me actually winning.”** She leaves him alone in the room more distraught than he was before. 

* * *

It had been a few weeks since everything's happened, a few days since Gina had kissed him, and only one hour since Ricky last thought about her. They hadn’t trained since that day but he had stopped ignoring her, avoiding her, and started to unintentionally seek her out. But he finds that she’s actually quite busy most of the time, being the leader of their revolution and all. **Revolution.** She was running a revolution, saving as many kids as she could to rise against the threats above ground. It had been a miracle they had all survived this long, had all been saved and kept hidden and it was all because of **her.**

Ej was her right hand man, her guard, **her whatever he was to her** and Ricky had wondered if there was something going on between them. The first time he thought that he had slapped himself so hard it left a handprint. He went from thinking she was a monster to wondering if she was in a relationship with her right hand man out of pure... **stupidness.** One kiss, a trick sure, but it had taken one kiss for his mind to turn to mush. And maybe it was because he never even considered love a factor in surviving before, not in a romantic sense, but he’s in an underground facility, undeniably safe from the harm above, and he kind of wants to know what it’s like to kiss her again. 

When he was above ground, in what he thought was a safe haven, love like that hadn’t been a priority. It was about watching guard, keeping everyone safe, and following Mr. Thomas’ every rule. There was no time for love other than the love for staying alive. Mr. Thomas ran a monarchy and they were all too blind to see it. He was too blind to see how wrong it was. But down below, it was a society of lost kids built on trust, loyalty, and love. It was different. **The good kind of different.**

So maybe that’s why he makes an effort to see her whenever he can. 

It’s after one of her daily meetings with her ‘watchdogs’, the people who were brave enough to make sure the perimeter above was safe, does he walk into the room unannounced and uninvited. He wants to confront her, because that **‘trick’** she pulled with him wasn’t leaving his mind and he wanted it to. “Can we talk?” She’s shuffling papers down at the oval desk, the yellow light shining down on the silver pins in her hair. She looks up, surprised to see him before she gives him a warm smile. “Yeah, of course, is everything okay?” She sits down, filing the papers in some kind of binder, not noticing the way Ricky fidgets in place. 

“Yeah, no, yeah, um ev-everything is fine.” His palms had gotten significantly more sweaty than before. She stops organizing her papers and looks up, concerned, etched into her features, “Are you sure?” 

**“You kissed me.”**

She stares back with an expression he can’t read. “Yes, I...did.” She goes back to shoving the papers in the binder and leaves Ricky dumbfounded for a second time. “Y-you kissed me?” He walks closer to her, as if proximity would get her to say something more. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you want me to say-” 

“Are you and Ej together?” 

He watches her sputter, a blush rising to her cheeks and he’s about to walk out of the room when she answers. “Ej? Jesus, what, **no,** oh my god, he’s like my older brother, why would you-” It’s his turn to feel embarrassed at the ordeal he just caused. “No, we’re not, don’t ever ask me that again, please.” She laughs when her head falls into her hands, pushing her hair back as she lets out a strain of giggles. “I literally kissed you, man. I wouldn’t do that even if Ej and I were-” She makes a gagging noise before she stands up and tucks in the chair. 

“What is this all about-” 

**“You were my first kiss.”**

He looks at the ground, at her shoes and wonders if she’s looking at him in pity. It concerns him how much emotion Gina had made him feel in the past month. **Pain. Resentment. Sadness. Anger. Frustration. Confusion. Hope.** She made him feel **hopeful** , for some reason, and the kiss had ignited a small spark. “Oh.” She’s on the opposite side of the table, the binder pushed off to the side and Ricky clenches his fists beside him. “And I know you just did it to distract me so you could win. I know it meant nothing, will never mean anything, but I’m just so-” 

**“Can I do it again?”**

He shuts up at the question, swallowing his own tongue as she makes her away around the table. “I won’t lie, the kiss was just to distract you. It didn’t mean anything to me, really. But maybe…” He can hear his pulse, his heartbeat picking up speed the closer she stepped. “Maybe If I try again,” she’s only a few inches away from him now, her eyes boring into his and he prays no one walks in like he had, **“can I?”**

He’s lost the ability to speak, doesn’t need it when the nod of his head answers for him. She was shorter than him and had to stretch herself to reach his lips. Her hand gently held the side of his face and in all of his 18 years on Earth he had never felt that way before. It’s not like their first kiss at all, that one was rough and unexpected, this one was what he imagined a butterfly’s wings would feel like. It’s soft, **delicate,** long enough he could feel her breath fan across his sensitive lips. She’s back on the balls of her feet and it’s over with. His eyes were still closed, lips pursed like he was waiting for another one. 

“That was…” Her hand had fallen to his bicep, curled around the muscle heat bloomed through her cheeks. Her eyes flutter open and she’s staring at the ground again, her hair ticking his nose as she does. “I-'' She doesn’t get a chance to finish her when he grabs her face and plants his lips on hers again. **He had in fact been waiting for another one.** He’s not sure what he wants from the third kiss, he just wants to be as close to her as he could get, in some ways he wants to become **one.** He’s never been this close with anyone in his life. 

He didn’t know the limits, the rules, not when his hands pushed their way into her hair, or fell to her hips, or when they forced her chin down, opening her mouth wider, **he had never done this before.** But he’s not being pushed off or slapped so maybe he’s doing something right. **It feels right.**

The small spark had grown into a raging fire that had **no end** in sight. 

* * *

He visits the children wing often, befriends a cool 11 year old named Frank, who seems to want to know the personal details of his life every time he comes. His life had changed so much in three months, become something that he loved, something that he was grateful for. More and more kids were being saved from above, Gina was doing her job as the leader and had been making the revolution stronger. 

They were going to rise up, soon enough, **they just needed more people.**

But until then, Ricky was content spending time playing chess with Frank. “Are you and Miss. Gina **k-i-s-s-i-n-g?”** He’s too concentrated on his next move to realize what Frank had asked, the chess piece in his hand as kids younger than Frank ran around a few feet away from them. It had been play time for all the kids, the usual time where the teenagers turned teachers had a time to relax and leave the kids to people willing to watch them. Ricky had volunteered the first time he heard about it, excited to meet all the kids who were like him at one point. 

“What?” He decides to move his rook piece forward, because he wasn’t that good at chess, and secretly didn’t really know how to play. Frank only rolled his eyes as he moved his own chess piece. “She talks about you all the time. **It’s kind of gross.”** He almost knees the chess board off the table in glee, his lips spreading into a wide smile. “She does?” He watches Frank nod his head as he tries to figure out his next possible moves. 

Things had been going extremely well with Gina. **And also extremely known.** Ej teased him about it, more often than not, and he would never hear the end of it when he hung out with the 8 year olds during reading time. He had lost track of how many times they snuck off to his or her room, lost track of how many kisses they shared. It became a daily occurrence and Gina still ‘tricked’ him every time they trained together. He didn’t mind it one bit. **“Ricky’s really nice isn’t he? Ricky’s a good fighter. Ricky’s smart.”** Frank takes on a high pitched voice, his hands flailing around before dropping them to his sides.

It’s at this does he laugh, his face aching at the smile that kept growing. 

“I didn’t know she said all that.” He finally makes his next move, knocking Frank’s bishop out of play. “Not cool **doucheface.”** It never fails to surprise him what new nickname Frank came up with every time he visited. Doucheface had become his favorite so far. “But yeah. Miss. Gina talks about you like she’s in love with you and it’s gross.” Frank reaches over and flicks his queen off the board with his finger and Ricky’s pretty sure that’s not allowed but he lets it fall to the floor. “When you grow up and find someone like Gina, tell me if it’s still gross kiddo.” 

The boy puts a finger in his mouth and mimics gagging as Ricky reevaluates his strategy of winning. He decides to give Frank a taste of his own medicine by reaching over and plucking the queen off his side and setting it beside the board. **“Checkmate.”**

“That’s not how that works.” 

* * *

It’s just a simple mission. 

**An extraction.**

He had been on the opposite end of it once, could it be so hard to be the other guy in the situation? 

He had never been on a mission before. Had all the training he needed for it, but had never been picked for it. But the extraction team was low on two members, the flu had been going around and they had been quarantined in the medical wing, leaving spots open for a complete team. Ej had selected him, because he was in charge of the technicalities, but he really thinks he did it as a laugh. Someone else had been chosen, a redhead who had actually gone by the name **‘Red’,** who he had seen around in training. He was a lanky man, lean, and a little gawky and Ricky was unsure as to why he was chosen for extraction. 

He learns that he’s good with tech and where they were going, they needed someone to dismantle security, and Ricky felt bad for misjudging. It’s the day before the mission and they’re laying in Gina’s bed, in her room, that was significantly bigger than his and he’s definitely going to have a word with her about it later. 

**Later.**

He knows there’s going to be a later, because they were going to come back, but Ricky had always been a doubtful person and his mind went to all the dark possibilities of the mission. 

“You know, yesterday, **Ej taught me what to do if someone holds a gun to my head.”** He’s holding Gina in with his right arm, his left tucked behind his head as music plays over a vintage radio in the corner of her room. She hummed against his chest, dragging her leg over his and entangling them closer together. 

“Oh yeah, what?” 

“So you have to act fast-” He pulls his arm out from under his head and throws his fingers up in the air, pointing two like he was holding a gun. “You distract them, in any way you can,” He keeps his arm straight as Gina turns her head and looks straight up, “then you swat their wrist away-” he moves his arm to the side, to imitate the action of his wrist being slapped away, “and if you have a knife, use it. Drive it into their heart and run. He told me he’s done it plenty of times but…” 

He lets his hand fall to the bed, his forearm coming to rest over his chest. He feels her hand start to play with his fingers, grabbing them and pulling them to her lips, placing soft kisses on his knuckles. “It won’t come to that.” He sighs and she looks up at him, entertaining her fingers with his-

**“I hope not.”** She brings her lips to the corner of her mouth, something unspoken on her tongue as she tightens her hand around his. He turns his head more and kisses her, like he already knew the unspoken thing. The music continues, he hums along to the song and smiles at how fitting it is. Vera Lynn’s voice croons throughout her room, and part of him is terrified at what the song could represent, but she’s falling asleep quickly in his arms and it’s enough to keep his heart calm. 

**We’ll meet again.**

**Don’t know where.**

**Don’t know when.**

**But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.**

He prays that it’s a sunny day. 

* * *

“Maybe I should go with you guys.” 

“No.” 

“But-” 

**“No.”**

She falls back dramatically against the wall, huffing as Ej shrugged on his jacket. He checked his guns, strapping them to wherever they were supposed to go as she continued to pout. “I’ll wear my mask and my hood, they won’t even know it’s me.” Ej gave her a deadpan look before starting on the knives at his disposal. “I said no. **They see you, they kill you.”** She rolled her eyes even though she knew he was right. Her face had gotten out above ground, they had figured out how big of a role she played in it all. They still hadn’t found them though and that’s exactly why they needed to do the mission. An hour out were kids being held in confinement, waiting for their execution and it was a surprise to all that they were so close. 

“I’m not risking it, not sorry about it.” He twirls a hand knife in his hand before shoving it in his belt loop. Ricky was prepping in the common room with the rest of the team, she already had her talk with all of them, had a talk with Ricky the night before about it. But she always saved talking to Ej last. “You made me in charge of stuff like this, I’m simply just doing my job.” He sits down at the edge of his bead and starts putting on his boots. Gina walks over and plops right on the firm mattress beside him. **“I know.”**

She was nervous. She was always nervous about missions like these but this had been the first extraction that she wouldn’t be a part of. “Let me guess, you want me to watch over ole’ **Lover Boy** , huh?” She snorts at the nickname, keeping the nerves down in light of his joke. She nods, “Just make sure he doesn’t do anything dumb. It’s his first time out there, so...watch over him. Please.” Instead of untying his shoes, Ej tries to stomp in them so they would go on. It makes her laugh and she thinks he does it to calm her. 

“Damn it, **I really wanted to use him as a human shield.”**

She slaps him on the arm and it’s like a pebble hitting him. He finally gets the boot in and looks over to her, his lips forming a teasing smirk, “Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll watch over him, okay?” He stands up and takes a deep breath. “Watch yourself out there too.” He turns and pulls her off the bed before walking over to his dresses and opening the first drawer. “Me? I’m the fucking terminator, nothing’s gonna happen t-”

“Ej, I’m serious.” He grabs the gum in the far corner of his sock drawer and turns his head to her. She’s looking at him with watery eyes and his heart pricks a little bit at the sight. “Listen,” he opens the silver packaging of the gum and pops the green stick in his mouth, “Ricky’s gonna come home safe and sound. I’m gonna be fine. It’s just an extraction, we’ll be home before you know it.” 

**“I love you.”**

“Oh don’t-” 

“No, listen asshole.” She strides up to him and envelopes him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his torso and squeezing. Ej’s taken aback by the sudden affection, not being one to invite it, but he slowly wraps his arms around her shoulders and squeezes just as hard. “I love you, so come back. Got it?” He hugs her tighter as he chews the minty fresh gum in his mouth. **“Yes Ma’am.”**

* * *

He’s apprehensive about it 

He’s always been apprehensive about everything in his life, but this was a different thing and he was feeling…

**Things.**

Gina went off to go check on Ej, the leader for tonight's mission and he had gone pale in her absence. The bulletproof vest on him is tight fitting, a little suffocating if he thinks about what it’s for, about the name. Everyone on the team had put on their vests and weapons calmly, like routine, because they had done this plenty of times before him but it makes him even more nauseous. The only other one on the team who didn’t look ready was Red. His face kept turning from green to sheet white and Ricky thought it best if he tried to reassure him about it. 

**“Hey.”**

They were waiting for Ej to come and get them, for the mission to start, but he had been taking forever and the rest of the team had begun playing around with a ball that was left by one of the kids. Red sat on one of the chairs along the wall, his thumbs twiddling at his lap as Ricky walked over. “You good?” He took the initiative to sit in the chair beside him, the knife strapped to his hip making the position uncomfortable. “Huh?” Red turned around to look at Ricky then looked away quickly. “Oh yeah, no, I’m fine. Yeah, I’m good.” He watched the adam's apple bop in Red’s throat before slouching in the chair. 

“It’s my first mission too. It’s okay to be nervous. **At least that’s what I was told.”** He watches the ball being kicked throughout the room by the other people on the team. There’s another redhead on the team; **Ashlyn,** who in the midst of the game looks back at them, or rather at Red, and Ricky thinks nothing of it. 

“All you need to think about is that one day, **we’re going to win.** So all the scary parts, in retrospect, are worth it.” 

Gina had told him that a long time ago, before he had even been considered for going on missions. He says it with the intention of making Red feel less sick and the smile he shoots back lets him know that he did. “Yeah,” Red looks back to where Ashlyn and his eyes brighten when she scores on the other team, “we’ll win. **Maybe tonight.”** He furrows his brows at what Red says. He’s not sure what he means by it, because they were only saving about 40 kids, and not the thousands around the world, so they really couldn’t win tonight. He probably meant a small victory. He doesn’t get a chance to ask him about it before Ej and Gina walk into the room and the atmosphere suddenly becomes thick. 

**It’s time.**

* * *

The blood on him has dried but his hands haven’t stopped **shaking.** He’s been afraid to breath since it happened, since they realized it was a trap. **It was a trap.** An ambush. Something went wrong, it was always bound to go wrong, but they didn’t realize it until a bomb had gone off and the wind had been knocked out of his chest. There had been 14 of them, 14, and they were coming back with **six.**

Six survivors, two of which were them and…

**He can’t get it out of his head.**

The blood, the splitting image of a face half burned, a jaw hanging by a thread, blood pooling out of his mouth and onto **him.** They had gagged them, **the traitors,** the reason the mission was a trap, but they had to move quickly. They had lost the tail a few miles back, their guns low on ammo and fists ready to use if necessary. 

**Fists.**

His fists had been balled up into his jacket as he pushed him off, balled into the blood soaked fabric as bullets hailed around them. He had triggered the explosion, without knowing, tripped a wire and was too late to say anything .They flew back, he had been closest to the explosion and he had landed on top of Ricky. His ribs were bruised, maybe cracked, because Ej had weight on him and-

**Ej was killed.**

He didn’t even get a chance to fight, **half of his fucking face was blown off** and Ricky knew his blood would always stain his hands even after he washed them. They had to leave him, had to, because the more they stayed the more of them were being gunned down by some undetectable force and they had to run.

Red tried to turn his gun on them, Ashlyn too, but they were tackled. **They were fucking traitors.** They were the reason Ej and the other were dead. It was their trap, they had walked into **their** trap. It’s an unwanted epiphany he has when he hears Red grunting against the cloth in his mouth. 

**We’ll win. Maybe Tonight.**

Red wasn’t talking about them. **He was never with them.**

There’s dried blood on his hands but he can’t make them stop shaking. 

* * *

Every wing in the facility hears her screams. 

They’re resounding, grief within the pauses of each breath, ear shattering, heart breaking cries. 

**He holds her through it all.**

They made it back, four of them, out of the 14, in two with two traitors. Gina’s confused when she sees them, covered in blood and injuries. She can see the gash on Ricky’s brow, the gags and restraints on Red and Ashlyn but she doesn’t see him anywhere. It’s like her nightmare had grown a pair and became her reality. 

She chokes on her sobs, throwing up everything she had eaten in the past few days into a bin. He’s not clean, there was still Ej’s blood on him and he’s pretty sure his own blood had mixed in with it. Gina’s tears are fresh and violent, enough to make the blood wet again and she clutches Ricky’s tighter in the fetal position, it smears on her face.

Ej’s dead. Kids were dead. It was a trap. The traitors were locked in their rooms, begging to be let out and Genevieve, the leader of the revolution, had begun to show the cracks in who she was. 

* * *

**She flips a switch.**

Thrown up all she could and the tears on her face were still wet, eyes still red, but she rushed out of his arms and out of the room. Ricky sits there for a moment, pondering what had just happened before he’s up and chasing after her. When he’s out of the door he sees that she’s down the hall, walking at a quick pace, her shoes padding the floor with forceful impact. He doesn’t know where she’s going but he follows blindly, and only realizes what’s happening when they make it to the hall where Ashlyn and Red are being kept. 

There are two guards stationed outside of each door, two kids with rifles of their own, fresh tears **of their own** on their faces. He can’t see the determination on her face but he can imagine the fiery rage that contours her cheeks. She stops at the first door, stands in front of the guards and she doesn’t have to say anything for them to open the door. The guard to the left opens the door with a key only she had and it’s barely open before Genevieve is pushing her way through. 

Red is slumped against the wall, his eye bruised to where someone had punched him on the way back to the facility. He had a bullet graze on his left shoulder and the gag had fallen to his neck, a wet spot on the beige material where his mouth had been. Ricky can see the fear in his eyes when she walks in, how he tries to scoot back but there’s just a solid wall behind him. He almost cries at the sight of seeing him, at the reminder of what he had done. He can’t see her face, only the back of her head, and her shoulders are unnervingly still, her breathing steady. **He doesn’t dare speak,** the air too thick to say anything, and neither does she. They both just stare at her, two different views and by the way Red starts breathing quickly he’s unsure if he wanted to see her face. 

She turns and he catches a glimpse of her eyes before she’s out of the room. **Bloodshot.** Like his eyes probably were but there was something else in them that he has never seen before. He stays in the room, looking at the boy on the floor in pity. He looks smaller than anyone he’s ever seen before, a child. There’s a door slamming open outside and a sudden rush of strangled screams. He’s about to race out of the room before he sees a headful of wild curls into view and he stays in his place. His eyes widen when he sees what she’s dragging into the room, **who she’s dragging into the room,** by the hair and he can only imagine how painful it must feel. 

She throws Ashlyn to the ground and hears her face come in contact with the floor. Genevieve stands to his side as Red starts sobbing. He watches Red reach over and grasps at Ashlyn’s arms, lets out a breath of relief when she grabs back. She had broken her nose when she was pushed down, blood dripping to the floor. **“Don’t.”** he hears her speak for the first time that night, her voice managing to cause a chill to run through his body. She sounds firm, **terrifying.** “Don’t touch each other. Get back against the wall.” Red does as he’s instructed as Ashlyn tries to reach out. He winces when Genevieve reaches forward and clams a hand around the firefly coils of her hair and pulls her back. Her shriek is loud, painful but she keeps her hand in her hair. 

“What is she to you?” He gets that same feeling from earlier, the apprehension, as he tries to figure out what’s going on. It feels wrong, something about it feels wrong. Red doesn’t answer, his bottom lip quivering as Genevieve shouts. **“WHAT IS SHE TO YOU?!”** It’s like a thunderous clap, her shout, making his blood run cold with sudden fear. It’s not directed at him but he feels as if it is. “M-my s-sister, please,” he sobs the words out as Ashlyn grasps at the tight hold on her hair, “d-d-don’t hurt her, please.” 

**Sister.**

It hits him like a semi truck. 

It’s his goddamn sister and they were in on it since the beginning. The memory of the look they shared becomes sinister in his mind. He closes his eyes, a lump forming in his throat as he hears her speak again. 

“Are there more of you? **Traitors?”** He should’ve known, he should’ve understood what was going on, he could've stopped it. He’s too focused on his thoughts that he doesn’t realize what’s happening when she reaches over and rips the gun off his side holster. It escalates rather quickly and she points the gun right at Ashlyn’s head. **“GINA-”** He’s too afraid to grab the gun from her, in fear that she’d fire it, so he stands there, hands hovering in the air like an unanswered question. 

“STOP, PLEASE STOP, DON’T!” Ashlyn’s crying along with Red now, her sobs coming out as whimpers as the gun presses harder into her head. His mind is telling him to do something but he stands frozen in fear. It had been so long since he was fearful of her. Never thought he’d see the day where he’d fear her again. It’s surreal. “T-there’s more, there’s more, please.” Red chokes out, his face bright and pink as his hands slap the ground beneath him. “Here?” She sounds too casual, like there was some decision in her head that she had already made. He hears Ashlyn speak through her cries, “A-answer her, please…”

**“Yes.”**

“Give me their names.” Genevieve pulls the pressure of the gun off of Ashlyn’s head and Ricky could feel relief from both redheads entering the room. His heart is still racing and the gun is still pointed at Ashlyn’s head but not in such a threatening manner as before. “Give me their names and nothing happens to her.” He looks away from Red and stares at Genevieve. She wouldn’t actually hurt them. She’s bluffing. But then he remembers Mr. Thomas and then there’s even more fear coursing through him. “Do it Red.” It’s Ashlyn who forces her brother to speak after moments of petrified silence. **“J-John Simm-mmons, Leo Wa-alker, Wren Gideo-n-n, and Hah,”** Red sucks in a breathe, bows his head into his hands and lets out a sigh, **“Howie Florence.”** He says the last name as a whisper and Ricky wonders if he has some kind of connection to him. He doesn’t know any of them but he’s heard their names before. 

“Is that all?” The gun keeps lowering with every passing second and Ricky can see the hope come back into Red’s eyes. “It’s a-all that I know, please,” Red looks at Ashlyn and there’s more tears that come falling down his face, “p-please don’t hurt her.”

“Your sister…” The gun is still in her hand and he has the chance to take it away. He’s still frozen in place. **“Do you love her?”** It dawns on him. 

**It’s the beginning of the end.**

Red looks away from Ashlyn, stares back up at her, the hope quickly draining from his eyes as Ashlyn starts crying again. “I gave you the names, please d-don’t hurt her. Please-” Genevieve takes a deep, steady, breath in and Ricky’s fears are slowly coming true. “Do you-” it's a cold reiteration, apathetic in ways he’s horrified by, **“love her?”**

“I do, I do, she’s my sister.” And it’s the final straw for her, **he knows it,** the confirmation that has her taking another deep breath. 

**“Then you’ll know how painful it will be.”**

The sound is exactly how he remembers. Metal against metal, **bullet against bone.** He can feel Ashlyn’s blood, **brain matter,** splatter on his cheek only slightly, before she falls to the floor. Genevieve’s hand is still pointing at where her head was, unmoving, as Red choked on his own vomit. The guards from outside rushed into the room, ready to aim and fire if necessary. He didn’t react, his face frozen as she stepped over her body like nothing, lowering her gun to the side as Red tried to crawl away. Where he’s staring at, he could see the blood on the wall, **a dark red that had become a symbol of what was to come.**

“You will live with a hole,” She speaks over Red’s guttural screams, Ricky’s still not moving, “in your heart-” She takes the gun and pints it directly at her chest, finger hovering over the trigger. “that can never be filled.” She walks away, over Ashlyn’s dead body yet again and Ricky finally sees the fresh blood on her face. She looks exactly like she did **that** night. “And I will keep you alive, until you’re dying of old age, until I can no longer keep you breathing.” Genevieve doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t bat an eye at what she’s just done, who she just became .

That wasn’t his Gina. That was someone else. 

**“Just so you’ll know the pain you caused me.”**

* * *

She goes after them. 

**One by one.**

Executes them without remorse, even walks past the children’s wing covered in blood as kids hide in fear. She makes the guards who were at the cells follow her every move, them being too scared to oppose her. **John Simmons** is shot in the face. He had been in his room reading a book. **Leo Walker** is shot in the neck. He had been drinking in the common room. **Wren Gideon** was shot in both knees before she was shot in the head. She had been in her room doing nothing. Genevieve almost kills the last one, **Howie** , but instead drags him to the cell beside Red and shoots him in the foot for good measure. 

Ricky had stayed in the shadows, **powerless,** watching the whole thing go down. There was blood everywhere in the facility, footprints that lined the history Genevieve was making. **Horrible history.** After she was done with what she believed was justice she locked herself in her room and ordered two people to guard her door. It was a sleepless night. **A silent night.** People had taken the dead bodies, all but Ashlyn’s body, by **her** order, and moved to the entrance of the facility. 

The hidden sector that only people who went on missions knew of. He goes back to his room and washes the blood off of him, but the images don’t leave his head. **Nothing leaves his head,** even though he’s physically clean, he’s tainted by what he’s seen. **By what she’s done.** They were kids. She hurt kids. Traitors, but **kids nonetheless.** He thought the confusion he felt with her was gone, had been tucked away neatly and shipped off when he got to know her. He didn’t know her anymore and it all came rushing back. 

He visited Frank that night and it depressed him how **silent** he was. Frank was a chatterbox, a bright 11 year old with dreams and aspirations and... **a brother.** Frank’s older brother was John Simmons and he didn’t see his brother die but he had **felt** it. Frank doesn’t look at Ricky when he tries to talk to him. He just sits there, silent, and it breaks his heart. **It all breaks his heart.**

* * *

The facility feels desolate, Everyone holes out in the room, even the children’s wing is empty. There had been no word from Genevieve since she locked herself in and Ricky hadn’t made an attempt to see her. Meals that usually took place three times a day had become one and turned into **‘grab what you can and run’.** The kids were terrified, he was terrified, even the guards at her door were terrified. Everyone was. 

What became a place of safety became a place of fear, **all consuming, terrible fear.**

He’s the only one brave enough to walk the empty corridors, although he was probably the only one with the privilege to do so. Regardless of what happened, people had still assumed he was with her, but he hadn’t even known if they were still together. They hadn’t communicated in any single way, seen each other or touched each other. Although he needed all of it, he couldn’t get over what she did. He’s human and the things she did was vile. He can’t bring himself to look at her. 

**So he stays away.**

Until he’s approached by Carlos in the common room. It’s just them in the room, the chairs had been empty and the blood that had spilled on the floor had dried, turning into a rusty orange. He’s sitting down, playing with the fabric of his pants when Carlos comes stumbling into the room, a frightened look on her face. “Do you know?” He stops playing with the fabric and looks curiously at the Doctor. “Know what?” 

The way Carlos’ face drops makes dread fill his chest. 

Carlos leads them to his office in the medical wing, his eyes searching widely at every corner in case someone caught them. He was looking out for Genevieve. He knew this. She was the only threat other than the guards in the entire facility. Threat. The guards weren’t threats, they were just kids she was using to protect herself. She was the only threat there. “She came to me, the other day.” He opens the door and Ricky’s surprised to see the mess he finds within the room. There’s papers scattered on the floor, on the desk, books tossed and ripped from the bookcase. Carlos shuts the door gently behind Ricky, locking it, before running over to his desk and searching for something. 

“She came to you?” 

He hadn’t even known she’d been out of the room since that night. **“Everyone’s s-scared of her.”** Ricky takes a seat in the chair and sighs, “I know.” 

“I can trust you, right? You’re not secretly conspiring with her because I don’t want to die, I don’t want to be killed-”

“Carlos, what are you talking about?” His question had stopped his rambling, started the insistent sweating he felt all over. “She really hasn’t told you?” Ricky scoots forward on the chair, keen on whatever the hell he was talking about. “About what?” There was worry clawing up his throat, too many thoughts running around in his mind. He’s thinking about everything horrible she could do and it’s frightening how he could see her do it. 

**“She’s going to kill us.”**

Ricky feels the world stop spinning. Gravity shuts off and he feels numb again. Carlos is talking again but he can’t hear it. He doesn’t know if he chooses to or because his pulse is too loud. He feels sick. Like he might throw up. “-she wants to poison at least 50% of us, she wants me to make it, she said she’ll hurt me if I don’t-” 

“What?” 

Carlos stares back at him with eyes too afraid to open completely. He stares back with eyes that have seen too much. “Why?” It distresses him how much he believes him, although the idea sounds ridiculous. A week ago the thought of her even thinking something like this would make no sense, but the mission happened and it’s not so far fetched. “She says she can’t take us all. There’s too many of us-” 

“Take us all where?” 

It’s quiet enough that he could hear Carlos’ erratic breathing. 

**“Above.”**

* * *

It hangs over him like a pendulum. 

**The idea of knowing.**

It inches closer each step he takes to her room, her room still guarded by kids with weapons. He stands in front of it and waits, waits until one of the guards slowly opens the door and lets him in. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t need to, they had been given clear instructions by her to let him in whenever he wanted. He walks in and is unsure of what to think when he sees her. She looks...small. In comparison to when she was stomping around the facility, firing bullets into people who had the ability to do her wrong. 

She looks... **weak.**

In comparison to what he thought of her. 

**Gina** was a strong, powerful young woman who was going to lead them all to freedom. Instead, sitting on the bed, back facing him, he sees **Genevieve,** a scorned woman with nothing stopping her from killing half of what she worked her entire life for. Carlos had told him in a fit of rambles, she was planning something horrific. She had found a way to infiltrate the system above, found a way to destroy the structure that kept them hidden underground for years. A way to begin the revolution. Found a way to end it all. But to her, the only way that would happen, is if she got rid of the weight holding her down. 

**700 kids.**

700 kids or so in that entire facility, every single one she had saved, and she was willing to kill half of them to win the war. Carlos had told him her justification was that she couldn’t do it with all of them, couldn’t protect them from the horrors above, so her plan was to kill them down below. Poison. She was going to poison kids, of her choosing, the kids who she thought weren’t fit for the Revolution, and leave with the rest to a new life. 

**She wasn’t thinking clearly.**

They could bring every single one of them, they could bring a thousand kids if they had that many, her motives didn’t seem right. She didn’t seem right. **Nothing felt right.**

“Ricky?” 

It’s like seeing a ghost. 

The bags under her eyes were prominent, lips chapped, skin discolored around her bare arms and hands. She doesn’t look well. And it pains him to no end. “You finally came.” He looks around her room, finds the vintage radio broken into pieces he couldn’t tell. There’s glass shattered on the ground, glasses she had thrown against the wall at some point. The door behind him had closed, leaving them to look at each other like they had many times in the past. “Gina…” 

“I don’t like that name. **Not anymore.”** She stands up from her bed and Ricky stays still, back inches away from her door as she walks over to her dresses. There’s a bottle of something brown and a single glass on the desk, picture frames and miscellaneous items had fallen to the floor. “Want some?” He watches her pour from the bottle into the glass, “I only have one the others…” She looks around, shrugs her shoulder up as she directs a warm smile at him, “ **I don’t really have the others anymore.”**

He doesn’t move from his spot, or respond, too sad to do anything. She frowns, shrugs again, before taking a sip from the drink she poured. “Suit yourself.” 

“I haven’t seen you in days.” 

“You never came to visit me.” 

She pours more into her glass and that causes him to finally move, walk over to where she stood to ease the flow of the pour. She looks at him with squinted eyes, her mouth frowning into a thin line. “Buzzkill.” She forgets about the drink and walks away from him, leaving him there to read the label; ‘Jack Daniels’ in fine white print. **“Are you okay?”** He can hear her mumble something under her breath and turns to ask her about it. 

“I...I don’t know who I can trust.” He stares at her but doesn’t say a word. “I know the guards outside have thought about killing me, more than once.” She settles onto the bed, pulls her knees up to her chin as she continues, “And I’m so confused. **I-I’m so scared.”** It takes everything in him to not rush over and hold her. She starts crying, tears shedding at her waterline as her hands come to run through her scalp. “I don’t even know if I can trust you.” He sets the bottle of Jack Daniels back on the dresser, turning away from her. But he can see her through the mirror, her reflection showing how shattered she was. 

**How shattered he was.**

“Please tell me I can trust you.” He watches her get off the bed through the mirror, turns when she’s only a few feet away from him. He takes her in, looks at the way her shirt falls off the shoulder to reveal bone. The way her legs shake with every step she takes. **She’s not Gina.** He didn’t know who she was. “Will you help me? P-please help me.” She walks right into his arms, her hands grasping at the sides of his face to pull him down. His hands find her waist, fingers gripping the fabric as tears prick his eyes. “Help me, please help me.” She speaks into his lips, breath fanning into his mouth and all he wants to do is kiss her. 

**“Poison?”**

He whispers it but it echoes in the room like a plaintive cry. Her eyes were closed, fingers still on his skin, lips hesitantly against his. A tear falls down her face before she lets him return to his normal height, fingers dragging down the sides of his neck and falling at his chest delicately. She doesn’t respond, eyes screwed shut as he moves away. “So it’s true.” His voice is wavering, heart breaking even more. “Will you help me?” 

**The question takes on a different meaning.**

“You’re willing to kill half of us-” She opens her eyes wide, shakes her head before rushing to him, hands pressed against his chest. “And leading the rest to freedom-” 

**“BY KILLING HALF OF US!”**

He yells in her face and disregards the sobs that tumble out. He feels sicker than he ever felt, a terrible feeling growing in his stomach. She tries to grab his face, pull him down to her lips, but he doesn’t budge and pushes her off. “You’re just like him. **Leading us to death’s door.”** He watches the anguish on her face turn to something cold. “Don’t,” it’s the same tone she took with Red that one day in the cell, “you dare compare me to him.” Her voice cracks on the last word but her eyes remain fiery. “I have sacrificed **EVERYTHING** for this.” She uses her hands, her hands that pulled the trigger and killed four kids. The hands that pulled the trigger on Mr. Thomas, the moment that led him to the very end. To now. 

She turns away roughly from him, walks to her bed and stands there, back to him as their words hang in the air. “If you wont help me,” he hears her take a breath, a sudden click of something echoing in the room, **“I don’t need you.”** He’s staring at the end of a gun, her finger on the trigger, the same dead look in her eyes that he had seen many times before. He’s afraid, he’s completely afraid, but he thinks of all the special times his lips met hers, of all the special times his hand had found hers during meals, the special times that weren’t **this.** He uses it to step closer, coming near the barrel of the gun. 

She doesn’t pull the trigger and he can see the dead look falter in her eyes. 

He didn’t stop until his forehead was pressed against the gun itself. He was crazy, **begging for death,** and it looked like she had no problem giving it to him. “You do need me.” He swallows hard as he looks at her through the gun, his hands kept still to his sides. He watches her bite her lip, the look dropping completely from her face, the suffering returning. “Will you help me?” She’s just a kid. 

**They were just kids.**

“I will.” He feels the barrel of the gun pull away from his forehead, the cold metal no longer sticking to his sweaty skin. It’s only a few centimeters from his face and he could see the teary eyed smile forming on her face, a sigh of relief quickly coming. **A distraction.** He swats her hand away, drags the knife out of his belt and pulls her close, drives it directly into her heart. The gun falls from her hand, clatters to the floor and he kicks it away. Her hands come to rest on his shoulders as he uses his other arm to hold her. 

She’s staring at him, **something unspoken on her lips** , her head falling limply against her neck, hands following soon after. He had felt her pulse subdue slowly, watched her soul leave her body, knife buried deep into her chest. 

**He had brought a knife to a gunfight. And he had won.**

He falls down with her cradled in his arms, his strength leaving him as he holds her close, tears falling on her sunken cheeks. Her eyes are still open, unfocused, quickly glazing over, blood staining her lips and falling down the side of her face. He cries. He cries as she lays in his arms, unmoving, **scared no more.**

**He helped her.**

He imagines a sunny day as he rocks back and forth, dragging his fingers down the side of her face, closing her eyes with shaky hesitancy. He presses a sweet kiss to her forehead and smiles down at her. **“You did good.”** He can hear it in the back of his mind. He can hear the song and he likes to think wherever she is, she’s hearing it too. 

  
  


**We’ll meet again.**

**Don’t know where.**

**Don’t know when.**

**But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day.**

**Author's Note:**

> Oh how very season 8 game of thrones of me. How very Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow of me. whoopsie. The gag is, I absolutely hated the ending of game of thrones, which is funny because this is exactly that sjjwndkakwkzka. So if you hated the ending of got, you probably hated the this too. as I mentioned in the note at the beginning. 
> 
> I actually foreshadowed a lot through the story, specifically about Gina's death. For example, the whole 'death's door thing' as well as the time Frank knocked the queen off of Ricky's chess board (Gina was literally the queen). Did you catch how Ricky literally explained to Gina how he was going to kill her without knowing? The gun to the head/distraction thing he would later use on her? Hehe. 
> 
> Also if you're wondering, towards the end I switched from using Gina's name to Genevieve, that was on purpose. I did it to symbolize her transformation into something dangerous. Into someone who wasn't the person Ricky fell in love with. So in a way, Ricky killed Genevieve, but saved Gina. Now I know the reasoning behind her wanting to kill a majority of the kids in the facility is a little wobbly (like the entire plot) but I just had the idea and I rolled with it. 
> 
> This is a really long note, sorry, but if you took the time to listen to the songs, I appreciate it, because it did end up being a big part of the story. It ended up meaning something. The one by Ramin symbolizes the beginning, a moodier tone, the enemies part of the Rina story. The one by Vera Lynn symbolizes the end. A haunting yet beautiful tone. They're both meaningful to the story in their own way. 
> 
> This is literally the longest thing I've ever written and though the plot is a little janky I'm actually super proud of it. it was quite fun writing someone out of my comfort zone, especially the action scenes. I got to write a lot of emotions in this story and that's my favorite thing to do. if you actually read it all, I genuinely appreciate it, and I hope I could write even more in the future. Thank you. :)


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